Hecre's Theory
by Coretta
Summary: A horn. A door. A call for help. The Dark Lord has finally finished It - the project he has been working on since his travels as a young man. When he uses it to intrude on a place that was never his, certain people will be summoned - to aid, to destroy...and ultimately, to love. AU
1. Prologue

**|| Hecre's Theory ||**

Written by Coretta

**Disclaimer:** Anything recognisable belongs to either J.K. Rowling or C.S. Lewis. Everything else belongs to me.

**|| Before you begin reading ||**

I have the bad habit of starting new stories without finishing previous ones. That is all.

**|| Prologue ||**

King Caspian the Tenth sat on his throne, listening stoically as a Dwarf reported on the latest of their skirmishes. His face was blank, showing no emotion, but inside, his chest was beating erratically.

Three years. It had been three years since that fateful night. The night that had changed his life, forever. That night when he had last seen his beloved Tutor, Doctor Cornelius. That night when his aunt had given birth to his cousin, Prince Ancais, and he had been forced to flee his home, the home of his father.

In three years, not much had changed. Indeed, if the Old Narnians had not watched with their very own eyes how their young king grew handsomer, older, wiser and tireder by the day, they would have believed that no time had passed at all.

Miraz – for he had no desire to call his uncle by the title which he had usurped – was not a very astute, nor a very good commander, and neither were the people he had surrounded himself with. It seemed when he had weeded out Caspian's father, he had also murdered each and every one of the people with any sense of battle knowledge. It showed.

He sent his soldiers to Aslan's How, their headquarters, at least once a week, if Trumpkin's timekeeping was anything to go by. In return, Caspian's forces – the Talking Animals, the Giants, the creatures that the Telmarines now had no choice but to believe in – clashed with them. Due to Caspian and Trumpkin's sharp logic and skill in the art of battle, and the agility and competence of their men, the Old Narnians won every time, but with horrific casualties. Despite their superior knowledge and training, Miraz had a larger army. If it were not for the stream of Old Narnians that had gradually been coming out of hiding over the years, Caspian was quite sure he would not even have an army.

"I'm sorry, but did you say that forty had fallen tonight?" Caspian sharply inhaled. That was almost half his people. The Dwarf nodded solemnly, but Caspian paid him no mind. That was the largest loss since their very first encounter, when Miraz had first discovered their location and his people had not yet been trained. If this continued… "You may go now, Duhedler." The Dwarf bowed and then left.

Caspian sat alone in the central chamber, and he felt like a joke. He and his uncle were still at an impasse, and meanwhile so many of the Old Narnians were losing their lives because of it. If it hadn't been for their undying loyalty to the Old Ways of Narnia, most of them would have left by now. His throne wasn't even a throne – it was merely a chair, although crafted lovingly for him by Trufflehunter out of sticks and twigs. He felt no more capable than he had at fifteen, when he had first entered this dangerous game. His thoughts of misery clouded his mind, and it was then that he wished, more than ever, that he had Doctor Cornelius. His Tutor would know exactly what to do.

It was as if by magic. Caspian had been staring at the lamp that lay on the ground across from him, flickering and sending dancing shadows across the earthy walls, when he heard the shouts. They were coming from outside, and the King raised his head, confusion evident in his eyes. The Telmarines had long gone by now, but was it possible that they had decided to return?

He stood up, drawing his sword. His stance was instantly alert and cautious. If there was another attack, someone would come to inform him. Even he knew his worth to their cause, and he would not go out there blindly.

He heard foot- and hoof-steps now, in the tunnel that led to this chamber. Eyes narrowed, he breathed heavily. There was the sound of struggling, yelling, and there arrived at the entrance of the chamber after a few moments the Dwarf Duhedler and Caspian's friend, Trumpkin, another Dwarf. Standing impassively between them was someone Caspian knew well, but that he had not seen for so long. Short, fat and ugly, with his beard long and eyes twinkling, Caspian immediately recognised Doctor Cornelius.

Caspian gasped, and then gave a shout of delight. "Doctor! You're here!" He immediately left his throne to approach Cornelius.

"You know him, your Majesty?" Duhedler asked, disgust plain on his face. The Dwarf could already tell that this newcomer was a brother of his, but a disgraced one at that.

"I do," Caspian nodded, "and you'd do well to lighten your tone, Duhedler. He is an old friend of mine. Release him, please, release him!" The two Dwarves immediately released the taller one between them.

"He says he has something for you, your Majesty," Trumpkin said. "Says he's got a right treasure, but I say, if that's a treasure, I'm a rabbit!" He went back into the tunnel, fumbled around for something, and re-emerged with something long and dirty in his hand. He handed it to Caspian, who examined it, before returning his attention to his Tutor.

"But Doctor," Caspian said excitedly. "Where have you been all this time? I am sure most in Narnia know of my location now, and it has been three years since we last met!"

"As you know, Sire," Cornelius said, speaking for the first time. His voice was husky, earthy and very much tired, "it has been my life's goal to search for Queen Susan's Horn. In fact, ever since-"

"But you don't mean Queen Susan the Gentle, from the stories of Old Days?" Trumpkin asked sharply. "Poppy and cock! Her Horn was nothing special. Why ever would you spend your life searching for it?"

"I am sure you've heard the stories of the Horn, Trumpkin," Caspian said patiently. "Her Horn was meant to bring help to those in need of it."

"That is correct," Cornelius nodded. "As you can see, this Horn would be quite useful in these present climates. I merely hurried my search, for I know for certain that Miraz has an ally."

"Allies?" Caspian gasped. "Who would ally themselves with Miraz? Everyone knows he is not the rightful king of Narnia."

"Any man would do anything for the right amount of gold," Cornelius said gravely. "I have yet to find out who these mysterious allies are, but it seems he is still in the negotiating stage. They are not Calormene, though, I am positive. As of now, he has yet to reach the other kingdoms' demands, but I am sure he will soon find a way to overcome that obstacle. And while he is doing this, we will need help. I have reason to believe that that object-" Cornelius nodded to the thing in Caspian's hand, "-is what I have been searching for."

"Where did you find it?" Caspian asked in awe. If this was truly Queen Susan's Horn…his people might be saved. Old Narnia might once again flourish. Suddenly, he felt much too unworthy, much too unclean to be touching this ancient, powerful object.

"It was in Cair Paravel, the castle where the Kings and Queens of Old reigned once. I was quite astonished to find it lying right in the centre of where the great hall might have been, but nevertheless grateful." Cornelius looked incredibly joyful, eyes twinkling brightly. "I am thankful that I have been able to find this before the end of my lifetime."

"You have done well, Doctor," Caspian said. "I must hold council at once. Trumpkin, please call Trufflehunter and Nikabrik. Duhedler, you are dismissed."

The two Dwarves left immediately, and Caspian turned to his Tutor, eyes with a light sheen of moisture. "I thank you so much, Doctor," he whispered to the shorter man. "So much, you do not know how horrible a commander I have been. But you have given me hope, and I will be forever in your debt."

"Do not deprecate yourself so, your Majesty," Cornelius said gently. "You have led your forces to many victories. As I hear it, your army has yet to lose a battle to the Telmarines. You are a fine king."

"You give me too much credit, Doctor," Caspian said bitterly. "I-"

His sentence was cut short as the others arrived noisily. "And I was _saying_, he was quite rude! Just because us Dwarves are made to do the dirty work, doesn't mean they can talk down to us!"

"He wasn't being rude," another voice responded exasperatedly. "And you've got some nerve, Nikabrik, when you obviously dislike him as much as he dislikes you!"

"Trufflehunter, Nikabrik," Caspian said loudly. "Welcome."

The two stopped their arguing abruptly. "Thank you, your Majesty," Trufflehunter said. Nikabrik merely nodded, shooting another glare at the badger before crossing his arms across his chest. Trumpkin looked quite amused at the proceedings.

"This is my Tutor, Doctor Cornelius," Caspian announced. "Doctor, these are Trufflehunter and Nikabrik. They are a part of my council."

"Wonderful to meet you."

"You're the renegade, eh?" Nikabrik sneered. "The half-half?"

"Nikabrik!" Caspian's voice was sharp. "I will have you know that I trust Doctor Cornelius with my life, and I will not have you speak that way to him."

"Oh, I'm _sorry_, your Majesty."

"Galloping gumballs!" Trumpkin shouted. "Is that any way to talk to the King?"

"Please, gentlemen!" Caspian barked loudly. They fell silent. "We are not here to argue. I wish that you treat Doctor Cornelius with respect, but that is not our sole issue as of now. Doctor Cornelius has come with a very…special object." He looked to Cornelius, who addressed the two newcomers.

"That which the King holds in his hand," he said, "is Queen Susan the Gentle's Horn."

Trufflehunter gasped, and Nikabrik's face morphed into that of shock. "The Horn?" he asked. "How can you know that?"

"Oh, but don't you feel it?" Trufflehunter said excitedly. "The magic, the ancient air around it…of course. The days of Old are coming back!" He looked ecstatic. "Us Badgers always knew the time would come! Patience is our virtue, mind, and we've been waiting for some time!"

Caspian nodded in approval. "What I called you for is to ask as to whether you believe now is the time to blow it."

"Why wait?" Nikabrik asked. "If you truly believe that is the Horn – which I'm not completely convinced it is – then surely now would be the time. We have lost many tonight, and the sooner we get some help, the better. We aren't faring well at all."

"I do believe his argument makes sense," Caspian said. "The only thing I have to ask is this: does anyone know where our help would most likely appear? I believe that our help will be the Old Royals – High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund and Queen Lucy – for they saved us from a dark age once before and I hope they will again."

"The Ancient Places of Narnia, I think," Cornelius said. "This place, Aslan's How, is the most magical of all, but I believe there are two others. Lantern Waste, where the Royal Children first appeared in Narnia, and down at the river-mouth, where their castle of Cair Paravel once stood. It is my suggestion that we send a messenger to each of these places, to await the arrival of our help."

"Very good idea," Caspian said. "Who shall we send?"

"Squirrels are best for getting through enemy country without being caught," said Trufflehunter.

"All our squirrels are rather flighty," said Nikabrik. "The only one I'd trust on a job like that would be Pattertwig."

"Let it be Pattertwig, then," said Caspian. "As for our other…I don't suppose any of you would like to go?"

"I would be far too slow, your Majesty," Trufflehunter said apologetically.

"I _won't_ go," said Nikabrik. "With all these Humans and beasts about, there must be a Dwarf here to see that the Dwarfs are fairly treated."

"Thimbles and thunderstorms!" exclaimed Trumpkin. "By Aslan, you are _quite_ infuriating, Nikabrik. Sire, send me. I shall go."

"But I thought you didn't believe in the power of the Horn?" Caspian said amusedly.

"I'll go," Trumpkin repeated. "Lantern Waste, you say? I will be there in a day."

"Thank you, Trumpkin," said Caspian sincerely. He fingered the Horn in his hands, brushing the dirt away from it. Underneath he saw ivory. "Shall I blow it now?"

"Please," Trufflehunter said. "I am quite honoured to be sitting here, watching upon this historical moment, your Majesty."

Caspian looked around at his fellow fighters and his Tutor, and with one deep breath, brought the Horn to his lips.

The sound that was blown that night was so heart-wrenching that it would forever be ingrained in the memories of those who heard it.

**|| Author's Note ||**

Hey guys! I'm back again, with a new story. As I said at the start, it's a bad habit. It's a prologue, and although it's a bit long, I couldn't see this as an actual chapter so in it goes.

To anyone curious, as of now, I don't have plans to continue with my other two stories – really sorry to anyone holding out for updates to Amnesia, but I lost my muse and besides that, my computer crashed and stupid me destroyed my only backup. So I forgot which direction I was taking Amnesia in, and whilst I still love that story and the storyline to bits, I can't summon enough motivation to go on. If anyone wants to continue it, that's fine, and I'd even be honoured, as long as you credit me with the storyline and the first few chapters. :)

So on to this story now. I was actually inspired to write this after I read a beautiful, beautiful Edmione story called _When Two Worlds Collide_, by WickedlyAwesomeMe. I couldn't even contain my feels when reading that masterpiece, I swear. I never thought of Edmund or Hermione as being good together, but I was curious and let's just say it was one of the best decisions I've made. I have a thing for rare pairings – which actually isn't a good thing for me because I end up having to write my own stories – and that was just brilliant. If you haven't read that already, GO DO IT NOW. It's amazing.

This story takes place when Caspian is 18. They are still at war with the Telmarines (Tales of Narnia: Prince Caspian) when Caspian blows Susan's horn. It'll be **very AU**, though – everyone's ages are different, the Pevensies won't be coming from the train station and there will probably be lots of differences to Narnian canon. I'm pretty much messing up Narnia's timeline, but I need it this way.

Warning now: I never really liked Ron for some reason, which will probably reflect in the story. I've been warming up to him recently, though, so I may or may not be good to him. It really depends on the direction this story flows. :)

I'm not a big Narnian – I'm a Potterhead all the way. I do like Narnia, though, and I've always found Edmund to be adorable even if he did betray his siblings in the first book, so I'm here, doing this story. If my facts are wrong, please don't judge harshly. Just think that it's part of the story. :) I wouldn't trust anything that is remotely relatable to Narnia canon in my story because I've only got two of the books and will have to rely on the Internet for the rest.

That's it for now. Please, review and tell me what you think! I'm not a very quick writer, so you'll have to excuse the slowness of my updating. I also don't have a beta, so any grammatical or spelling mistakes attached to the end of your review would be appreciated greatly.

Love,

Coretta


	2. Chapter One

**|| Hecre's Theory ||**

Written by Coretta

**Disclaimer:** Anything recognisable belongs to either J.K. Rowling or C.S. Lewis. Everything else belongs to me.

**|| Chapter One ||**

Hermione Jean Granger was angry. She was angry, she was mad, she was livid, she was furious…she was all those things and more. Why, on this thoroughly normal and unimportant day, was she so full of emotions? Because Harry James Potter had cheated.

"Argh!" she screamed in frustration. "Harry, why _can't_ you see how this is wrong? It's a book! It's got mysterious writing in it! Didn't you learn _anything_ from our last experience with something like that?"

"I did, actually," Harry replied coolly. "I learnt that if I hadn't read Tom Riddle's diary in the first place, Ginny would've died." Ron, who was watching the two of them bicker back and forth as if he was watching a tennis match, felt his face pale at the reminder. "Anyway, you're just annoyed because I beat you in class for once." It took a few seconds for what he had just said – combined with Hermione's horrorstruck face – to sink in, and when it did, he immediately regretted it. "Hermione, I'm sorry-"

"That was low, Harry," she said quietly. "You _know_ how hard I try, and I know exactly how hard you _don't_ try."

Harry looked sheepish. "Yeah, I guess." He tried to look pleading. "But Hermione! Come on, just this once, can't you be happy that I'm attempting to get better?"

"Only because of that stupid book," Hermione hissed. "If you want to show me you 'attempting to get better', get a new Potions book and throw that one in the fire."

Ron gasped. "Damage of school property, 'Mione! Blasphemous!"

Hermione shot him a look. "Oh, shut up. The school has plenty of textbooks. I'm sure one _potentially dangerous_ one can be spared."

"I'm not throwing it, Hermione," said Harry stubbornly. Hermione gave him a withering look, but he stood his ground. "I'm serious. Drop it."

They stared at each other for a long time, before Hermione finally sighed and dropped her gaze. "Fine. I'll drop it – _for now_. But if something bad happens, I reserve the right to sing 'I told you so' in your face for the next month."

Harry rolled his eyes and cracked a smile. "I'm sure your singing would be even worse than whatever bad incident happens."

"Harry!"

When Ron saw they were no longer fighting, he changed the subject. He wanted to side with Harry – the Potions text book was dead useful – but Hermione would skin him alive. He didn't want to give her another chance to pester the black-haired boy. "Oi, look!" Ron said. "Malfoy! And Parkinson and Zabini, too. They look suspicious, don't they, all huddled up there, whispering?" Harry's head shot up from studying the ground, and when Ron saw his eyes widen and shine with determination, he knew he had said exactly the wrong thing.

"Ronald!" Hermione hissed to him, watching as Harry assumed a 'stalking stance', and he shrugged apologetically.

"I'm gonna see what's up," Harry said lowly.

"Harry-"

"Hey mate, I don't think-"

"I'll meet you guys later," Harry said abruptly, and without waiting for their answer, he fished his Invisibility Cloak out from his pocket and threw it over himself. When he disappeared around the corner after the three Slytherins, Hermione punched Ron on the shoulder.

"Nice going, Ronald!"

"I'm sorry! No need to get violent, witch!"

**|| Break ||**

Harry's eyes were fixed on the platinum blonde hair of the Malfoy heir as he stalked them as quietly as possible under his cloak. At the moment, Parkinson was chattering happily about some ball or another that her family would be holding during the next holidays, and Zabini and Malfoy walked steadily beside her. They looked thoroughly bored, but listened anyway.

"- and Mother asked me to write up guest lists, you know, 'cause she knows I always know the best people to invite, and I was wondering if you two wanted to come?" Parkinson's voice was hopeful, and the two made noncommittal grunts. "Oh, thank you, boys! Your parents as well, of course they'll come. Actually-" her voice was lowered now, and she conspicuously looked around, before continuing, "-I was wondering if perhaps…the Dark Lord would want to come?" Harry had to creep closer to hear, and at the last sentence, both he and Malfoy tensed up at the same time. "Because, you know, Draco, he's staying at your place and all."

Harry's eyes widened. Voldemort was at Malfoy Manor? At the place he was most likely to be searched for? He was supposed to be smarter than that…he _was_ smarter than that. It made absolutely no sense. In fact, it seemed almost too easy. Harry moved even closer, ready to catch the rest of the conversation.

"I doubt the Dark Lord is willing to go to a petty party, Pansy," Malfoy replied stiffly. "He has much more important things to deal with. And aside from all that, he and Father are…away. Out of the country. On business."

Parkinson made a disappointed sound. "Fine, but…"

As the Slytherin girl chattered on, Harry felt horrified. Not only was the Dark Lord with Malfoy Senior, but apparently he was actively doing something, too, instead of just waiting for Harry like all the other years. What was it? Was he building a weapon of some sort? Looking for more knowledge on the Dark Arts? He was out of the country…which didn't bode well. Dumbledore had told him that Voldemort had travelled when he was younger; that was when he gained much of his knowledge on the Dark Arts.

"…and Draco, I was wondering how you were going with your mission." Parkinson sounded expectant. Harry's thoughts jerked back into the present situation as he heard Parkinson's last exclamation in her high-pitched voice. Mission? What mission? Could it possibly be a Death Eater mission? So many questions were assaulting Harry's mind that he was finding it hard to control them.

They stopped as Malfoy hissed, grabbed Parkinson's wrist and looked around hurriedly. His eyes lingered for a moment on the spot where Harry was trying very hard to stop breathing, and for a moment, he thought he might have been spotted. However, after a few seconds, the Slytherin's eyes passed over him and he slowly exhaled, relieved.

"Don't exclaim it in public like that!" Malfoy growled. "Anyone could have heard!"

"Ouch," Parkinson said. "You're hurting me, Draco!"

Malfoy snatched his hand away from Parkinson as if burned and began walking again. Harry crept along after them. "It's going fine. You know I'm not supposed to tell you anything. Just know that it'll come into play at the end of the year."

Zabini spoke up for the first time. "So long, Draco?"

"It isn't anything easy, Blaise." Malfoy's voice was steel. "Stop asking me questions. We might get overheard."

That was all Harry needed. As soon as the trio rounded another corner, Harry began sprinting back to where he had left Ron and Hermione. They were still there, talking quietly. When they heard footsteps running towards them, they immediately stopped whispering and sprung back from each other. Both glanced in Harry's direction, looking guilty. Harry wondered what they were talking about but shook his head. That wasn't important at the moment. Taking off the cloak, he revealed himself to them, face going red with anger and determination.

"Ron, Hermione," Harry said urgently, slightly breathless. "I just heard Malfoy…he's got a mission!"

"Yeah," Ron snorted. "To make our lives miserable, the bloody git. We knew _that_ already."

"No!" Harry said impatiently. "He's got…a _Mission_." The way he phrased it and the particular emphasis on the word 'mission' were enough for Hermione to know what he was talking about.

"Mate, I heard you the first time, and I still think-"

"You're not serious, Harry?" Hermione asked in almost a whisper, sounding horrified. "You must have heard it all wrong, perhaps they were talking about something else."

"I didn't hear it wrong," Harry said forcefully. "Parkinson was talking about a party, said she wanted to invite Voldemort-" the other two flinched, "-to play _– fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself_ – and then she said, 'Oh, and how are you going on your mission, Malfoy?' Or something like that, anyway."

"All the same," Hermione retorted, "it just isn't possible. Malfoy is _sixteen years old_. Sixteen! Last I heard, even V-Voldemort wasn't desperate enough to recruit underage wizards." She looked immensely relieved to have finished the sentence, and bit her tongue; that was the very first time she had said the Dark Lord's name. For a second, Harry looked proud and Ron looked at her as if she had grown a tentacle. "What?"

Harry shook his head, seemingly to clear his thoughts. He looked determined again. "Anything is possible with Voldemort, Hermione. Just come help me confront him this once, and I promise I'll stop talking about it." Hermione opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.

"Why is it I always give in to you, Harry?" Hermione grumbled. Harry smiled brilliantly and began dragging her down the hallway. Hermione snatched Ron's arm in the last second and pulled him with them.

"So we went down here, and they turned this corner and- HA! MALFOY!" Harry bellowed his rival's name across the long corridor. Malfoy was on the other end of it, about to disappear from sight, but when he heard Harry, he froze. Harry ran down the corridor towards him.

"You!" Harry shouted. "You evil git!" He grabbed the back of Malfoy's arm roughly and Malfoy instantly gave an angry snarl. He threw Harry's hand off of him, turning around.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Malfoy spat. Hermione and Ron made it to the end of the corridor and watched the impending fight quietly. Neither really wanted to get involved. Looking at each other, they silently communicated. They would not step in unless it got out of hand. Knowing Malfoy's penchant for trouble, though, and Harry's hotheadedness, it probably would.

"I'm talking about your _mission_," Harry hissed. Malfoy's eyes widened imperceptibly – so small that Hermione only just caught the movement – and he instinctively hid his left arm from their view.

"I don't have time for your nonsense, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "I have things to do." He turned to leave, but was once again grabbed by Harry. He got Malfoy's left arm this time, and the blonde winced from the contact. "GET OFF ME, POTTER!"

"Not until you tell me what you're doing," Harry replied stubbornly. Malfoy laughed coldly and snatched his arm back.

"Do you really think I'd tell my enemy anything of what I'm doing? You think I'm stupid, Potter, but I'm really not." He glared at the Boy Who Lived and took his wand out. "Now, don't be hasty, Potter. Don't try to touch me again. If you do…" The blonde stroked his wand thoughtfully, suddenly not angry anymore. Instead, he seemed to relish the moment. "If you do, I'll have to curse your bollocks off. And _that_ wouldn't be pleasant, now would it?"

"You're trying to distract me," Harry growled. "It's not working, and I won't listen to empty threats. You don't think I won't go to Dumbledore and give him the memory of me overhearing you talking about _Voldemort_?" Now Ron, Hermione and Malfoy flinched. "Too bad, Malfoy. I'm only too willing."

It happened almost too quickly for anyone to do anything. Malfoy shouted '_Stupefy_!' in Harry's direction and then began running. Harry barely dodged it in time, taking his own wand out.

"MALFOY!" Harry roared, and he tore after him.

"Should we follow them?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Nah," Ron shrugged. "I doubt it'll get too deadly. They're bound to run into Snape soon enough. We're near the dungeons."

"But-" Hermione sighed and reluctantly took out her wand. "Come on, Ron. You never know with them two."

Ron took his wand out and they dashed after the other two. They found them shooting spells at each other two corridors down.

"Incendio!"

"Aguamenti!"

"Serpensortia!"

"Finite incantatem!"

"Diffindo!" Malfoy's last spell flew towards Harry, and he managed to spin away from most of the damage. However, there was a long gash on his arm, red blossoming where the spell had got him.

"Incarcerous! Incarcerous!" Hermione shouted. The spells hit their intended targets, and both went down. "Alright, alright. That's enough, you two." Malfoy began shouting colourful phrases at her – mainly ending in Mudblood – and Harry yelled at her for incarcerating him. "You two need to go to the Hospital Wing." The blonde, now that she looked, had a black eye and was bleeding from the nose, and Harry had the slash on his arm and a deeper cut on his forehead.

"Nah, Harry needs to go to the Hospital Wing," Ron muttered. "The blonde git can stay here and bleed to death for all I care."

"Ron! We can't leave him here! He might die from blood loss!" Hermione snapped. Ron raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'that's what I just said'. "And anyway, if a teacher finds him, they'll want to know who did this to him, and that'll be Harry."

"You wait, Potter!" Malfoy shouted. "Snape will be hearing of this!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," the three snapped. Hermione turned to Ron. "You unbind Harry, and see if you can't do anything about his cuts. The spell is _Episkey_." Hermione breathed in deeply and approached Malfoy, wand raised.

"What, Mudblood? You're going to get me while I'm down on the ground, is that it? What a Gryffindor you are," Malfoy sneered. Hermione ignored him, and pointing her wand at his nose, muttered, "_Episkey_." The gushing of the blood stopped, and with a quick '_Tergeo_', it was gone. She glanced at his black eye for a moment, overlooking the look of pure astonishment on his face at the fact that she had helped him, and thought for a moment. She concluded that she didn't know anything to clear that particular injury up, and so shrugged. He looked better with it, anyway.

Glancing at Ron and Harry, who the redhead had somehow managed to fix all up, she crouched down beside Malfoy at his head. He didn't look too angrily or venomously at her, which she thought might be because he was still in shock. Looking solemn, she mustered up her courage, and, even though she knew it was terribly wrong, she slapped him on the face. Not too hard, but enough for him to feel it. "That was for calling me a Mudblood."

Behind her, she heard Ron and Harry give whoops of delight, but Malfoy's eyes darkened considerably. Hermione automatically grabbed her wand in response to his enraged expression, although she kept her face blank. "How dare you touch me, Mudblood," he snarled. She raised an eyebrow and tried to turn away, but he somehow managed to grab her arm through his bonds. She gave a pained shout; his grip was like an iron vice. "How dare you even-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. A terrible sound drowned out his voice, a heart-wrenching sound of pure sorrow. Hermione mused for a split second that it sounded like a horn. She exchanged a panicked looked with Ron and Harry, Malfoy still holding tightly to her, when suddenly…

...they were gone.

**|| Author's Note ||**

Whoooooo! The action begins!

I rather liked this chapter. :) I know Draco seems a bit OOC when you consider that this is their sixth year – and we all know how poor Draco was then – but I can't write mopey, brooding Draco. I like my Malfoys with fire. ;)

Did you think the others were OOC, though? I tried to keep them as in character as possible except for Pansy and Blaise. I don't really have much of a grip on their personalities, so I made them my way.

Thank you to my reviewers! You made me so happy, because I honestly didn't think I'd have much of an audience for a pair as rare as this one. I'm trying my hardest to get chapters out to you guys as soon as possible! Please note, though, that although I updated with this chapter a day after the last, I won't be updating this quickly in the future. I tend to get excited at the start of a story, and then slow down after a few chapters.

One slightly irrelevant note: I watched this video on Youtube about Edmione (add this to the end of the Youtube URL: watch?v=fiBVc9dH4g4) and it was amazing. Literally 4 minutes of feelings and adorableness and yeah. Especially at the part where Edmund proposes a truce and looks back at Hermione and Ron looks so jealous and omg.

Anyway, I absolutely cannot wait for the next chapter, and their inevitable encounter with the Royal children in later chapters. I'm literally bouncing in my seat at the thought, and I hope you are, too! Please, read and review. 3 I promise I read all reviews individually. I don't have much spare time to be very honest, so I can't reply to every review personally. I hope this doesn't offend you guys!

Thanks for reading!

Love,

Coretta


	3. Chapter Two

**|| Hecre's Theory ||**

Written by Coretta

**Disclaimer:** Anything recognisable belongs to either J.K. Rowling or C.S. Lewis. Everything else belongs to me.

**|| Chapter Two ||**

She landed on her back, hard. So hard, in fact, that the wind was knocked out of her and she had a small coughing fit, eyes closed, palm covering her mouth. As she hacked, she felt a hand on her back and another on her right wrist, pulling her into a sitting position. The hand on her back rubbed while she tried to gain control of her throat.

"Where are we?" a voice – one that sounded like Harry's – asked. He sounded unnaturally vulnerable, unsteady. "How did we get here?"

"Dunno," another voice replied. This voice was close to her ear, and she realised the person holding her was Ron. "Maybe we somehow Apparated?"

"You can't Apparate out of Hogwarts," Hermione croaked automatically, rubbing her neck. Her throat felt raw. "Water-" She started coughing again, and vaguely, she heard a muttered '_Aguamenti_'. A cup of water was pushed into her hand, and she downed it gratefully.

Gaining her sense back, she became acutely aware of something under her bottom – it felt curiously like a couple of twigs. One hand felt for her wand on the ground, but instead met hard, gritty powder - dirt. Her eyes flew open. "Oh, Merlin! Where are we?"

"I dunno. Keep it a little quieter, though, aye 'Mione?" Ron winced. He rubbed his ear.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione said. She was much too busy looking around in wonder at their environment. Trees surrounded them on each side, the taller ones forming a canopy above their heads. Through the leaves, a sun was beating down on them. Around them was pure wilderness – rocks, twigs, moss. A bit further away was some sort of lamppost, which she found quite odd. They seemed to be in some sort of woods, but it felt distinctly magical. She closed her eyes again and breathed in. Magical – but an unfamiliar type of magic.

Opening her eyes, she spotted her wand lying a few feet away from her, beside Harry, who was lying on his back staring distractedly at the sky. She crawled to it, not being able to summon enough strength to stand, and when she felt the familiar and soothing warmth in her hand, she sighed and looked down at her best friend.

"You alright, Harry?"

"Yup." His voice sounded muffled as he threw an arm over his face. "My arse hurts, though."

"So does mine," Hermione laughed quietly.

They stared at each other. All three felt quite tired, actually. Hermione's wand hand lay limply in her lap, and Ron sat with his legs crossed, absent-mindedly ripping up a dead leaf he had picked up from the ground.

The peaceful moment didn't last long. Out of nowhere, a loud scream tore through the woods, causing birds to give their own shrieks and fly away. They all jumped up, cautious and alert, jerking back to reality. By the stricken looks on their faces, Hermione knew they had all wondered the same thing at the same time: what if this was some plan of Voldemort's? It would certainly explain the completely unfamiliar surroundings, and if anyone could figure out a way to bypass the wards at Hogwarts, it was the Dark Lord.

"Wands out," Harry muttered.

"Eyes alert," Hermione murmured.

"Constant vigilance," Ron finished. They exchanged looks, and with their wands held in front of them, began moving in the direction of the shout.

They had to get through overgrown bushes and low branches, and although they tried to stay quiet and stealthy, there was really no point. There were too many twigs announcing their arrival. Making it through the foliage with minimal scratches, they finally reached the area the scream had come from, breaths held, all fearing the worst. What they saw was…

Malfoy.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" Harry demanded. "What's wrong with you?" He stared down at the boy who was standing in the middle of the clearing, looking nervous and fidgety with his own wand out.

"Potter!" For once, the blonde looked relieved to see him. "Where are we?"

"How should I know?"

"You don't know why we're here?" Ron asked Malfoy suspiciously. He gave him a disgusted look.

"If I knew, I wouldn't have asked, would I?"

"But this could be some elaborate plan of yours," Ron said slowly. "To complete your…mission." Mistaken comprehension lit his eyes up, and Harry looked as if he believed the theory made sense. As one, the two boys circled Malfoy, their wands pointed at him. Hermione watched them in disbelief.

"What? No!" he shouted. "What are you doing? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Don't you two think you're being a bit rash?" Hermione said. "Honestly, use your common sense. Do you really think Malfoy would have been screaming bloody murder if he knew where we were?"

"It could have been bait, to lure us into his trap!"

"But we aren't dead and no one's jumped out of any bushes to apprehend us," Hermione reminded Ron. She rolled her eyes. "_Boys_." Harry and Ron eyed Malfoy shiftily, before lowering their wands. "Although, Malfoy, why_ were_ you screaming?"

Malfoy sneered at her and didn't answer.

"She asked you a question, ferret," Ron hissed, and sent a Stinging Jinx at the tall blonde. Malfoy yelped.

"Ouch! Bloody hell, Weasel! What was that for?"

"Answer her."

"I'm not going to answer a Mudblood-"

"Don't call her that!"

"I'll call her what I want, Potty!"

"If you don't want my wand shoved up your arse, you'll-"

"STOP IT!" Hermione glared at them. "Just stop! If Malfoy doesn't want to answer, he won't answer." Malfoy smirked, and she ignored him. "But we shouldn't be wasting time arguing. In case you hadn't noticed_, we are still in unfamiliar territory with no idea how we got here_. We should be figuring out how to get back to Hogwarts!"

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But we really can't help it, 'Mione! He's such an annoying git!"

"I know," Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "But we'll just have to put up with him until we get out of here, won't we?"

"We could always just bind him to a tree and let the wolves have him," Ron said darkly.

"I'm still right here, Gryffindorks."

"Let's list everything we know about this place," Hermione continued, ignoring him. "And maybe we can come to a logical conclusion. One: we're in some sort of woods."

"Really, Granger, your powers of observation astound me."

"Two: we're in a magical place."

"How do you figure that out?" Ron asked blankly.

"Can't you feel it?" Harry asked him. The redhead shook his head. "I guess you wouldn't, you've lived in the Wizarding World all your life. But magical places and non-magical places have different…vibes, I guess. This is definitely a magical place." Hermione looked at him, surprised. "You aren't the only observant one, Hermione."

"I never said I was," Hermione retorted. "Three: Even though this place is magical, it doesn't seem to have wards…I mean, we got here without even meaning to. Somehow. And if this place doesn't have wards, it must mean that no one uses it. It's very hard to find a magical place without some wards for unwanted visitors."

"But do any of us know anywhere that fits those criteria?"

"This is stupid," Malfoy said. "We could be anywhere on the whole damn planet. I'm sure there are plenty of wardless woods in _China_." He shook his head, sent them all one last glare and began stalking off.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Hermione called after him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting away from you brainless twits," was the reply over the blonde's shoulder.

"But it could be dangerous!" Hermione said. "You're in an unknown place and you want to go somewhere _alone_?"

"I've got a wand," Malfoy replied, turning around. He smirked. "Stop trying to stop me from leaving, else someone might think you actually care about me." And with that, he stomped out of view.

"Why _did_ you try to stop him?" Harry asked. Hermione shrugged, glaring at the place where Malfoy had disappeared.

"Strength in numbers. But if he wants to get killed by some rabid Hippogriff-" she laughed, remembering their third year, "-or a feral monkey or something, then so be it. I'm sure us three could handle anyone anyway. As long as it isn't V-Voldemort."

Ron jumped for the third time since they had left Potions that afternoon. "Stop saying the name, 'Mione! Merlin, has everyone gone completely mad?"

"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself," Harry quoted dully. No matter how many times he said it, Ron never seemed to let it sink in.

They fell into silence, leaning against trees. They needed to get out of this place and back to Hogwarts. Not only were they not safe here, but the knowledge that she didn't know where she was and that she had no control of the situation genuinely frightened Hermione.

"Any bright ideas?" Harry asked them, and Hermione shook her head.

"Maybe we should scout out the area?" Ron suggested. "Poke around a bit, maybe we'll find something useful."

"Good thinking," Hermione nodded, and Ron beamed. "Which way?"

"Malfoy's way?" Harry asked. "If we're going to go somewhere, we might as well go in that direction to make sure the git doesn't die." Ron snorted.

"Alright," Hermione agreed, and they began walking. She took the time to look more closely at their surroundings. The place was actually quite beautiful, and nothing like the woods back where they came from. Everything here seemed so much more beautiful, so much more light, so much more enchanting…

"_Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!_"

The three jumped and looked around wildly, before Ron rolled his eyes again. "It was just Malfoy," he muttered. "What happened this time? He got a little dirt spot on his pristine white shirt?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe we should hurry, just to make sure he isn't hurt."

"Bloody hell, 'Mione! You don't actually care for him, do you?" Ron looked horrified. "Are you…are you secretly rendezvousing with him behind our backs? That would explain your being worried about him all the time!"

Hermione burst out laughing, not in the least offended by Ron's ridiculous claims. Harry snickered. "'Rendezvousing?' Honestly, Ron?" She shook her head, giggling. "You and your imagination. Of course I'm not. I just don't want him to die. I don't dislike him _that_ much."

Reluctantly, they made their way to where they had heard Malfoy's screams come from. They spotted Malfoy's silhouette in the distance and approached him.

"Really, Malfoy," Hermione rolled her eyes. "What's the deal with your incredibly feminine-" She broke off, and was instantly in an attack stance, wand pointed.

"Oh, for Aslan's sake," the man said to Malfoy, sounding exasperated. "You get tackled and held at knifepoint by a man less than half your size – and it was easy, I might add – then you call for help and this is what you get? A girl wielding a stick? Lord and almighty, if you aren't a useless waste of skin." The man dug the tip of the knife into Malfoy's neck a fraction harder, not enough to bleed but enough to put pressure on Malfoy. The blonde visibly swallowed, not daring to talk.

Ron and Harry arrived then, noisily exclaiming at the annoying abundance of bugs and beetles they had managed to stumble on in their journey to Malfoy's rescue. One beetle was planted on Ron's forehead, but he didn't seem to notice. "Oi, Hermione, what's the ferret got into n-" His jaw dropped, as did Harry's.

The picture was really quite absurd. In the centre of the small clearing they were in, lit brilliantly by the blazing sun, Draco Malfoy was being held by the ear at knifepoint. His captor was a short, stocky man with bright red hair, a long beard to his knees and one of the ugliest faces they had ever seen. He was wearing some sort of hunting tunic, and his skin was incredibly red, sunburned even. Hermione had her wand pointed at the man, but he didn't seem at all disturbed.

"Put him down," Hermione said shakily, eyeing the knife. It looked particularly dangerous, the blade unnaturally shiny, the handle made of a carved wood that seemed to have runes or something similar engraved in it. "And put the knife away."

"Now why would I do that?" the man asked rhetorically. "Pushed me right down and didn't think any of it, he did. He's lucky I let him call for help." The man dropped Malfoy anyway, who fell with a muffled thump. He ignored the blonde's indignant 'Ouch!'. "And now you can fight me for his freedom, aye? I've been walking for a long time to get here, and I reckon I could use a break. What do you say? My knife against your…sticks?"

"I say no," Ron said immediately. "Why would we risk our lives for that git?" Harry stepped on his foot, hard. "Ouch! Bloody hell, Harry! What was that for?"

"You don't think we can come to some sort of compromise?" Harry said calmly. "I'm sure Malf- er, _Draco,_ didn't mean it. He was probably just _afraid_…because we have no idea where we are. And, well, you seem sort of familiar with whatever this place is." He smirked at the glare Malfoy sent him for implying that he was a coward.

The man looked at each of them suspiciously, knife still gripped firmly. "What's that? You don't know where you are? You lost?"

"Actually," Hermione said, "we don't know how-"

"Because I'll say this, and I'll say it only once," the man continued. He jabbed his knife alarmingly. "You look a hell of a like Telmarines, and I'll be a talking mouse before I help one of you lot!" With a snarl, he threw the knife, directly at Hermione.

"NO!" Ron and Harry screamed as one, raising their wands. "_Prote_-"

With a flick of her wrist, the knife was sent flying into the trunk of a nearby tree.

"-_go_." Their spells finished after Hermione's, making Ron pout. "Damn, Hermione, let us be the heroes for once, will you?"

"Well I'm sorry if my life is worth more to me than your ego," Hermione retorted.

"Good call, Granger!" Malfoy whistled approvingly, now standing up and leaning against a tree as he watched the proceedings. She looked at him strangely. "What? If anyone wants to put Potty and Weasel in their place, I'm right behind them!"

"What in Aslan's name was that?" the short man demanded, bringing the attention back to him.

"Oi, you," Ron snarled. "You tried to kill her! I'm gonna kill you!"

"Surrender," the man said loudly. "I surrender." He held his hands up to show his sincerity, and looked at them in wonder. His face held a curious mixture of relief, glee and triumph. "King Caspian will be right glad to know that help has come after all." He looked them up and down, appraising them. "Even if he _was_ expecting the Kings and Queens of Old." He seemed to be talking to himself now as he walked to the tree his knife had been lodged in and pulled it out with an almighty tug.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

The man turned to them. "You've come far, haven't you, laddie? Piddles and whiskers! I bet you come from Adam and Eve's place yourselves, just like the Royal Children!"

"We don't know how we got here," Hermione snapped. "I was trying to tell you that before you tried to butcher me with that knife!"

"So if you've decided not to murder us," Malfoy pitched in, walking towards them, "mind telling us where we are? I'd like to get back to Hogwarts and the Manor soon."

"Quite sorry, that was terribly rude of me." He looked as uncomfortable as someone with a face like his could look, and it was astounding the change in him when he was no longer angry and threatening. He spread his arms wide and looked around. "Welcome to Narnia! You are currently in what is called Lantern Waste."

"And who are you?" Ron asked impolitely.

"My name is Trumpkin, and I am a part of the Old Narnian Revolution. I am a Red Dwarf."

"Oi, Weasley!" Malfoy exclaimed with glee. "You could be relatives! Same hair, same face."

Trumpkin didn't seem at all disturbed by Malfoy's blatantly offensive remark, although Ron glowered at him darkly. "Might I enquire as to your names, lads? Lass?"

"Hermione."

"Ron."

"Harry."

"Draco."

He nodded, pleased. "Sons of Adam and a daughter of Eve. Now, about what you did with my knife. That was magic, was it not?" His eyes twinkled with victory. They all nodded, Hermione looking at him through wary eyes. Glancing momentarily at Malfoy, she realised he was doing the same. "Hmm. Not exactly what King Caspian had in mind, but no doubt you will be useful. As long as you don't practise…the _Dark_ kind," he said in a low voice.

"Of course not," Hermione said, scandalised. Ron and Harry echoed her sentiments, but Malfoy didn't say anything. They glared at him, but he would not meet their eyes.

"Right then," Trumpkin said, straightening. "That's that sorted. We should start heading back to Aslan's How; it's a long journey and His Majesty is no doubt formulating battle strategies as we speak." He turned and began walking away from them, obviously expecting them to follow.

"Excuse me," Malfoy called out to him. "But you don't expect us to actually go with you, do you?" His trademark sneer was back in place.

Trumpkin turned around, looking impatient. "You're daft, is what you are. Didn't I just say that _we_ should be heading back now?" He snorted. "And _you're_ supposed to help us win this war? _That'll_ teach me to believe in magical horns."

"We can't go with you," Hermione said firmly. "We need to get back to where we come from. We've our own war to fight."

"And who the bloody hell is this Caspian bloke, anyway?" Ron enquired. "Why is he expecting us?"

"King Caspian the Tenth is the leader of the Revolution. He is presently fighting his uncle for the throne to Narnia. We've a magical Horn, once owned by a long past queen of ours who reigned when Narnia was still beautiful." He looked solemn. "Upon calling the Horn, it is said that help – the most appropriate help for our battle – would be summoned. And here you are."

Hermione looked pained. Despite their rocky start, the Dwarf seemed to dearly believe that they were their last salvation, and she hated to let him down. "Harry-"

"Look," Harry said, "we're sorry you're in some kind of war, and all, but we really can't stay. As Hermione said, we're fighting our own battles, and we're needed back where we come from." His eyes darkened. "Back where we come from, people are dying daily and horribly. We need to help them." He glanced almost imperceptibly at Malfoy.

"Narnia's no stranger to that, Harry," Trumpkin said grimly. "We've a bloody history, and many terrible times of darkness. If I'd the power, I'd send you back, much as we need help. But I've never heard that Aslan would allow someone into Narnia if they weren't meant to stay, and they've never left until they'd completed their purpose."

"Who's Aslan?"

"Giants and junipers, 'who's Aslan?'" He looked startled for a moment, before remembering himself. He chuckled. "I forget that you aren't Narnians. Aslan is the creator of all that is around us, and all that we stand on," Trumpkin responded.

"So let me see if I understand this right," Hermione said. "Your King Caspian blew a magical horn asking for help in a war against his Uncle to take the throne of this…_Narnia_, this Aslan character apparently believed we were the ones you needed, somehow we magically appeared here and now you want to take us back to a place called Aslan's How to fight." She said this all very quickly, in one breath. Trumpkin nodded slowly. "Would you mind if we discussed this?"

"Do your discussing, lass," Trumpkin said. "I'll just sit myself on this rock." He moved his thick body to a large rock covered in a thin layer of moss, and took his knife out. They looked at it warily, but he only began whittling sticks.

"I think we should go with him," Hermione said in a low voice when she, Harry and Ron had huddled. She had gestured for Malfoy to join them, but he had given her a disgusted look and wandered off to presumably look at a bush nearby. She knew he was listening to them, though, by the slight tilt of his head towards them.

At her words, Ron and Harry looked ready to protest. "We can't-"

"No, _listen_. We have no idea where we are. We have no idea where to start to get back to Hogwarts. We don't have anything except for our wands. We're going to need somewhere to start, and I have a feeling that being in some military base will be much more useful than wandering around some woods aimlessly."

"But Hermione, we can't trust him! He's a Dwarf. He tried to _kill_ you, for Merlin's sake!"

"I'm not saying we should trust him," Hermione said sharply. "In fact, I'm saying right now that we should never trust him. Keep your guards up, treat him with caution. We're not going to help him in his war." She grimaced. "As much as I want to, we're needed back in England. This is our plan: we're going to follow him, we're going to get the information we need and then we're going to get the hell out of here. I'm sure this Caspian fellow has some books that may give me some idea on what to do. Just play along with Trumpkin for now." She gave Malfoy a sharp glance; he was crouched low, hand frozen inside the bush. "Hear that Malfoy?"

He made a surprised noise. "Yeah, whatever, Mudblood."

"I also believe," Hermione continued, "that it's in our best interest to keep our magic at a low. I would have liked to keep it a secret, but he's seen it already so there's no point. Just don't do anything complicated; an '_aguamenti_' is all well and good, but no '_diffindos_' or _'serpensortias'_. We need something to keep the upperhand and the element of surprise. Only use the difficult stuff in extreme emergencies."

Malfoy grimaced, having given up his pretence of not listening. "So in other words, you're saying that for the next who knows how long, we're going to be pretty much living as Mudbloods and Muggles?"

Hermione smirked. "That is exactly what I'm saying."

"And if you don't like it, ferret, we'd only be too happy to leave you here to die."

"As fun as it sounds, Weasel, I regret that I'll have to pass."

They bickered while Hermione tried to make sense of the new idea forming in her head. Her brow furrowed as she considered it. "Malfoy," she said abruptly. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, and she hesitated. "Can we…form a truce?" Before they could get a word in, she sent the other two Gryffindors a warning look, before turning back to Malfoy. To her surprise, he seemed to be considering it. "Of course, only until we get back to Hogwarts. We came here together, and we'll need to work together to leave."

"It sounds…agreeable," Malfoy said reluctantly. "What are the conditions?"

"We'll take you with us and Trumpkin, and include you in all our plans to get out of here. In exchange, you help us whenever we need it, you stop calling me a Mudblood and you stop being such a bloody arse."

"I take offence to that," Malfoy smirked. "Whatever. Fine."

"Alright. Good. Great. I'll go tell Trumpkin." She turned to leave, but Harry grabbed her arm. He gave her a questioning look.

"What was that?" he whispered, looking at Malfoy pointedly.

"Just trust me, Harry," Hermione said softly. "I know what I'm doing."

He studied her for a second before letting go and nodding curtly. "Okay."

Hermione walked away from them to Trumpkin. "We've decided to come with you to help," she said confidently. He looked as if he expected her to say more, but when she didn't, he nodded brusquely.

"His Majesty will be pleased to hear it," he said. "We'd best not delay. It's, at the very least, a two day trip from here." He handed her the stick he had been whittling, which now resembled a deadly, if short, spear. "Keep the weapon, lass; your magical sticks may not be helpful in all situations."

Hermione wordlessly took the stick and tucked it into her school pants belt. Turning to the others, she jerked her head to tell them it was time to go. As the Dwarf began making his way out of the woods, they followed.

Hermione found herself wondering if they would ever get back.

**|| Author's Note ||**

My Edmione feels are literally killing me, guys. I'm squirming with anticipation for the events that will happen in a couple of chapters. They are just too perfect.

I don't have much else to say, except that I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Thank you to everyone who put this on their alerts, and to my reviewer for the last chapter! :) You are all wonderful!

If you weren't going to, please review! I'd take any suggestions for improvement, as well as any constructive feedback and/or opinions on the story so far. If you could also tag any grammatical or spelling errors you found at the bottom, I'd appreciate it so much!

Thanks guys! See you in a bit.

Love,

Coretta


	4. Chapter Three

**|| Hecre's Theory ||**

Written by Coretta

**Disclaimer:** Anything recognisable belongs to either J.K. Rowling or C.S. Lewis. Everything else belongs to me.

**|| Chapter Three ||**

Adelaide Granger had always been adamant on having a tight-knit family. She had done a lot of travelling when she was younger, and a favourite area of hers was Asia. Asia was full of strange but wonderful foods and traditions, and one custom that had always stuck with her was the concept of the family being the top priority, the most important thing, the one constant when life was full of chaos.

Her own childhood had been full of loneliness and a certain detachedness that came with having a well-respected, slightly upper-class family. She had been proper, and perfect, and prim, but she hadn't had many close friends, if any at all, and her older sister Rosalind had always been far more in love with the idea of meeting handsome boys and having secret midnight trysts than forging a bond with her younger sister. The very idea that the two should even share a case of lipstick had been ridiculous to Rosalind Baker – family was only for status, and for power. Nothing else mattered.

When Adelaide had met Graham Granger, a young and handsome man with unashamed charm and shrewd intelligence, it hadn't bothered her that his last name wasn't prestigious, or that they didn't run in the same social circles. To her, all that mattered was the beautiful, lively, wonderful Sunday brunches he had with his large family, immediate and extended, that seemed to be the most enjoyable times of his life. She had fallen in love with Graham Granger – and Mildred and Elaine and Victor and Miles and Annabelle and all the other Grangers – at once. This was the man she wanted to have a family with.

Being Graham Granger's wife didn't mean being showed off as a trophy, or being used as a convenient tool for cooking and cleaning and serving, as she had always thought married life was. That was how it went with her mother and father. No, that wasn't what being a Granger was. Being a Granger meant excitement and adventure, and a life she had never known.

They had travelled extensively, and when they had gotten to Asia, she had been amazed to see that families could have even stronger bonds that that of the Grangers. Families didn't have to jealously guard their secrets and hold an emotionless expression at dinner – they could laugh, and tell stories, and reveal embarrassing moments with ease. Families could share their possessions, their emotions, anything. Families could have_ life_.

These were the things that Adelaide Granger had instilled into, first, her one and only son, Charles Granger, and then into her one and only granddaughter, Hermione Granger. These were the values Hermione had been taught: family was not something expendable, it was something to be treated with love, and care, and loyalty, and devotion. Family was what Ron had with the Weasleys; it was what Harry did _not_ have with the Dursleys.

It was this - this strong, core belief that Hermione held - that justified Hermione's shocked silence when Trumpkin told the four witches and wizards of King Caspian the Tenth's life until this very moment.

"So what you're saying," Hermione repeated for the third time, looking scandalized, "is that Miraz had his _own brother_ killed off, as well as anyone else who could stop him from getting the throne. And then he attempted to kill his nephew, as well, when his wife gave him a son? That's disgusting!"

"That's Miraz," Trumpkin said grimly. "He doesn't have half the brain of a squirrel, but he's always had a lust for blood. All the Telmarines do, if it comes down to that, but His Majesty is a special case."

They had been hiking for a total of two days, and during that time, Hermione and her companions had found out a lot about King Caspian and this Narnian war. It turned out that when Trumpkin didn't have a knife to your neck, he was very loyal and enthusiastic, if dry and sarcastic at times. The redheaded Dwarf was fairly singing King Caspian praises, and barely did a half hour pass without Trumpkin saying something along the lines of 'There was a time when King Caspian was in this exact situation…' or 'If King Caspian was here, I'm sure he might have done this…' As such, the four had it drilled into their heads that this King Caspian was the most wondrous, resourceful, intelligent person they would shortly meet. Hermione wondered how this King Caspian hadn't overthrown Miraz if he was this wonderful and Miraz was as stupid as Trumpkin had made him out to be, but she didn't comment for fear of having her head bitten off by the impassioned Dwarf.

From what Hermione had been able to make from Trumpkin's jumbled and random telling, the past three years had been somewhat of a stalemate for Caspian and Miraz. Miraz had numbers, Caspian had skill. The bloodshed in Narnia was very high; Trumpkin had estimated that 70% of the Old Narnians had been killed off already, if not more. This was in contrast to the Telmarines, who only seemed to grow every time they came back to fight Caspian.

Those three years, the reign of the Telmarines in Narnia had grown stronger. When the Old Narnians had come out and revealed themselves to the Telmarines, they had expected the Telmarines to act in anger towards their government, who had always told them that Talking Animals, Dwarves, Giants, Naiads and Dryads were no more than fairytales. In actuality, even the authorities thought it was all stories. However, their welcome had been less than heartwarming. Instead of reacting in the way they had thought, the Telmarines had grown fearsome of the natives – and, as Hermione, Ron, Harry and Malfoy had experienced firsthand, fear incited anger and violence infused with passion.

Prior to the foursome's arrival in Narnia, there had been a battle between Caspian and Miraz at Aslan's How, where the battles always occurred. Caspian had won, but his army had only been approximately one hundred, and when the Telmarines had finally retreated, much of his army had been slaughtered. That night, Caspian's old tutor, a half man, half Dwarf named Doctor Cornelius, who had disappeared the night when Caspian had escaped Miraz's castle, showed up with something he called 'Queen Susan's Horn'. Naturally, at this part, Trumpkin had to tell them the stories of how the Royal Children had magically appeared from the same England that they had mentioned before and defeated a Dark witch named Jadis, effectively ending her 100 year reign. The Horn was a gift from Father Christmas to Susan, enchanted to bring help when blown. Caspian decided to blow it as soon as possible, and then there they were. Disoriented and in a completely foreign land with no idea how to get home.

Every time Trumpkin would volunteer a bit of this information, Hermione would soak the information in like a sponge, filing away useful tidbits. Harry would listen quietly and comment on those aspects which interested or appalled him, Ron would stop glancing around in paranoid fervour for spiders and Malfoy, much to everyone' surprise, would frown and concentrate intently on what was being said, instead of the loud complaining that he favoured when Trumpkin was not telling them stories. Trumpkin had quickly deduced that the blonde was not liked by the other three (he couldn't blame them) but that he was calculating, and his quick wits, obvious intelligence and seemingly no conscience had saved them from more than one possible encounter with death – including, but not limited to, killing a large, hungry bear with some of Trumpkin's sharpened sticks when the others hadn't had the guts to and Trumpkin had been otherwise preoccupied.

During the two days of hiking through Narnian terrain, Hermione and the other three had yet to do magic. There were many instances when Trumpkin would encourage them to 'do a bit of hocus-pocus' to build a small bridge, or move a fallen log, or cut down some vines. They all stubbornly refused, however; Hermione had come up with a ruse. As far as Trumpkin knew, they had only begun learning magic that year, knew only how to conjure water and fire, move objects and heal small cuts and were easily exhausted when using magic more than once in a day. The whole concept – especially the last part - was so ridiculous it almost made them laugh, but whenever they used it to explain why they wouldn't light Trumpkin a bonfire to save him from the manual work, he accepted it grudgingly. Hermione felt bad, but then the Dwarf would make some mumbled comment about them being 'practically useless' and anger would overcome her. Her being a Gryffindor, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to get him back for those remarks. Trumpkin, she knew, was getting suspicious about how he always seemed to trip over something or a 'bug' would always bite him whenever he said something like that.

"How long until we get there?" Malfoy whined from somewhere behind them. Hermione, who was leading the pack with Trumpkin, turned her head to look over her shoulder, and saw that 'somewhere' was actually something close to thirty metres behind them.

"Four hours," Trumpkin grunted. "For Aslan's sake, boy, keep up!" They had all been irritated with Malfoy's lethargic pace at some point in the journey, and while they could ignore the comments about how his feet were getting horribly calloused and how he'd never had to walk more than ten metres in his life until now, his sluggishness had slowed down their trip considerably.

"But I'm so_ tired_," Malfoy said. "Honestly, I don't know how you lot can walk for so long without falling over." There was a pause. "Although I can understand the Weasel's case; he probably gets enough exercise doing servant work to be considerably fit for such an activity as this."

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron barked back angrily. Apparently, their 'truce' had extended only to not making attempts on each other's lives; Malfoy had continued to make acerbic comments towards all of them aside from Trumpkin. Why that was, Hermione didn't know. "At least I'm not a ponce who can't handle a little walking."

Malfoy seemed unaffected by the insult. "Walking, this is not. More like slave-driving. If Father was here, I'd have made him Side-Apparate me to this Aslan's How!"

"Side-Apparate?" Trumpkin questioned Hermione, sending her a sidelong (and because of his height, upward) glance.

"You forget, Malfoy, that you actually need to know what your destination looks like before you can Apparate there," Hermione retorted. "Unless you want to get splinched, which is actually much more preferable to listening to you moaning all the time." To Trumpkin, she replied in a curt voice, "Magical way of travelling."

"Don't be silly, Granger!" Malfoy shouted back to her. "I'm sure you'd love to hear me _moaning_, as you said, all day." The tone of his voice and the lecherous chuckle afterwards made it clear to everyone what he meant by that. At once, Ron's groans and Harry's disgusted retching sounds were heard.

"Ugh, Malfoy, that's revolting," Harry said in an oddly choked manner.

"What, that Granger wants to hear me moaning? Get in line, Granger, there's about a fair hundred other girls who would love-"

"No!" Harry said quickly. "It's revolting that you'd be _moaning_ at all." He shuddered.

"Oh." They could hear the smirk in Malfoy's voice. "Well, actually, girls find it rather attractive. You see, there was this one Hufflepuff girl – Andrea something, I think her name was – and she found it positively _delicious_-"

"Please stop," Ron moaned. His voice was muffled, and when Hermione looked at him, she saw that he had his robe wrapped around his ears and mouth, trying to block out the sound of Malfoy's voice. It didn't seem to be doing much good. "_Please_."

"Hermione, tell him to shut up!" she heard Harry shout, sounding strangled.

"Jungles and junipers, if you lot don't shut your traps, I'll do something drastic!" Trumpkin suddenly bellowed, before Hermione could reply. The reason for his foul mood was soon clear when she joined him. Having reached the end of the thicket of trees they had been hiking through, they now stood on the banks of what appeared to be a river. That would have been all well and good, if it hadn't been for the fact that the river was raging so dangerously and violently that the bridge built across it was shuddering and moving with the weight of the flowing water. "Damn those Telmarines!"

"What do the Telmarines have to do with this?" Hermione shouted over the sound of the rushing water.

"They built the bridge," Trumpkin said with disgust. "In doing so, they angered and chained the River God that lives here. Though why the River God would be so especially angry today of all days…" He began muttering to himself, glowering darkly at the river.

"What's happening?" Harry asked Hermione loudly, suddenly appearing at her side. "Why's the water so fast?" As he said this, a large spray of water hit them all in the face. Hermione gasped, and her hands flew immediately up to her eyes and nose to cover them. She felt the unpleasant sensation of water getting into her underclothing, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that Ron and Malfoy had finally joined them, and that they were looking as uncomfortable as she felt. She spat out the water that had managed to get into her mouth, wiping it instinctively with her now-sopping sleeve. Of course, this did absolutely nothing.

"Trumpkin said that there's a River God in the river that's angry because the Telmarines built a bridge here," she replied.

"A River God?" Ron asked disbelievingly.

"That's what she said, Weasley," Malfoy sneered.

"But how do we get across?" Hermione asked Trumpkin, who was in deep thought.

"I don't think there's anything for it," Trumpkin began slowly, "but to cross the bridge."

"What?" Ron shouted. "You expect us to climb across _that_?" He waved his arms frantically at the trembling, creaking bridge. "You've got to be bloody kidding me!"

"There isn't a way to…I dunno, speak to this River God?" Harry asked over Ron's screams of 'We're gonna die! We're gonna die!' "Maybe we can get him to calm down, or something."

"It's a good idea in theory, lad," Trumpkin allowed. "But we can't talk to River Gods."

"What? You mean, there's a social hierarchy or something? He's at the top, and we're at the bottom, so we can't-"

"No," Trumpkin said shortly. "We literally can't talk to the River God. He doesn't understand English, only his daughters, the Naiads can. And they flee when he's in this kind of mood, so it seems we'll have to, as I said previously, cross."

Harry was giving Hermione a look that clearly said 'I think now counts as an emergency!' in reference to her rule stating that they weren't to use difficult magic unless the situation called for it. Hermione was unwilling to give up their cover so easily, though, and besides that, she didn't know any spells to placate an angry god. So she shrugged helplessly.

"Trumpkin knows this better than we do," she said, biting her lip. "We should listen to him."

"I agree," Malfoy said, and like the other times before when their lives had been in mortal peril, his face was now solemn, no trace of the spoiled brat or arrogant man present. "Trumpkin said earlier that this is the quickest way to Aslan's How, and we need to get there as soon as possible." The implied '_So we can't get the hell out of here'_ was not said. "If you want, I'll go first. Then if I die, you won't beat yourselves up too much about it." It was an off-colour joke, and although Hermione's first instinct was to tell him that that wasn't true, she realised that it probably was. Malfoy wasn't the easiest person to spend time with, and he knew it, too. However, the fact that he even offered to go first was a sign that he did in fact care if they made it. It would have been much more Slytherin, and much more natural for him, if he had pushed Harry to the front of the queue.

They watched in trepidation as Malfoy walked closer and closer to the bridge. His hand was gripping something tightly in his pocket, and Hermione knew that if the situation did not go as Malfoy was obviously planning it would, that he would not hesitate in breaking her 'no magic' rule. She found that she was actually hoping he would make it across safely, if only so that she wouldn't end up with a guilty conscience.

"I might not like the lad," Trumpkin muttered, and because of the sound surrounding them, Hermione almost couldn't hear him, "but he's a brave one."

Normally, Hermione would've snorted in laughter, but she agreed.

Malfoy's first step onto the bridge went badly. As soon as his foot touched the wood and metal making the bridge, it gave a violent lurch, as if the River God was trying to push it out of the river. It probably was trying to do just that. Malfoy lost his balance, and if he hadn't grabbed onto a wooden beam at the last second, he would've gotten lost in the raging water.

"Be careful, Malfoy!" Hermione shouted.

"I didn't know you cared, Granger!" Malfoy shouted back, and it would've sounded civil – even playful - if it wasn't ruined by his scream as the bridge gave another heave. "HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN AND HIS BAGGY SOILED PANTS!"

There was a sudden calm at the end of his scream, and Malfoy regained his balance. He looked around in wonder and shock, before Trumpkin's shouting roused him. "What are you doing, boy? Run while you still can!"

Malfoy jerked and gave them a terrified look before sprinting across the bridge. He was almost at the end when the bridge began tossing itself again. He flew through the air, and Hermione screamed as he hit one of the metal rails hard. She began running.

"Hermione, what the hell are you doing?" Ron yelled.

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" she replied frantically. She hoped Malfoy wasn't dead. If he was, she'd never forgive herself. She was a Gryffindor – she should have gone first.

"Hermione, don't be stupid!"

"Lass, that might not be the best idea-"

She ignored them and ran onto the moving bridge. It threw her to the side, and she groaned when she hit the metal railing as Malfoy had. Unlike him, however, she got back up again and ran. She was being tossed side to side like a rag doll, but when she fell or was thrown against metal, she just kept going. She reached Malfoy in three minutes, and despite the rocking of the bridge, she knelt beside him. She saw his head was bleeding, and that he was unconscious. Discretely taking out her wand, she tapped him on the head and shouted with desperation, "Rennervate!"

Malfoy woke up as if a bucket of ice water had been splashed on his face. As it so happened, he promptly got splashed with river water. "UGH! What happened, Granger?"

"We have to get moving!" Hermione screamed. "Get up, get up, get up!" She grabbed Malfoy's forearm and pulled.

Malfoy lifted himself up, and seeming to remember exactly what he had been doing before he was knocked blissfully unconscious, he grabbed her arm and began running again. She matched his strides, desperately wanting to get off this bridge now. There was only five metres left, they could make it-

They fell to the river bank on the other side, gasping and heaving, coughing up water.

"You -" Malfoy panted. "You – you – _cough _- you helped me! _Cough_ – why'd you – _cough, cough _– do that?"

"Don't be - _cough, cough_ – silly!" Hermione replied weakly, mimicking his sentence before. "You – _cough_ – risked your – _cough_ - life for us, I couldn't – _cough, cough_ – let you – _cough_ – die!"

They lay there, pathetically hacking the water that had entered their lungs out, when Hermione heard screaming. She remembered belatedly that Harry, Ron and Trumpkin had still been on the other river bank when she had gone on her decidedly stupid attempt to save Malfoy's life, and she turned quickly. The action made her dizzy, but as she put her hand to her temple, she watched in horror as Ron hung off of the side of the bridge, shrieking his head off.

"I KNEW I WAS GONNA DIE!" he screamed. "MUM AND DAD, I LOVE YOU! BILL AND CHARLIE, YOU WERE COOL! FRED AND GEORGE, I HATE YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU'VE EVER DONE TO ME, BUT YOU WERE THE GREATEST PRANKSTERS I'VE EVER SEEN, AND I MET SIRIUS! GINNY, LOOK AFTER PIG FOR ME! PERCY, I HATE YOUR DAMN GUTS!" He was screaming in delusion as Harry tried in vain to pull him over the metal railing. Even with the muscular Dwarf helping, it seemed to be taking considerable effort. Hermione made a start towards Ron, but Malfoy suddenly pulled her arms back.

"Let me go, Malfoy!" Hermione growled. "Ron's going to die!"

"Stay, Granger," Malfoy ordered. "You can't go back there! You just got off, and if you put yourself on that damned bridge, you're gonna get yourself killed as well! What help would you be to anyone?"

"Dammit, Malfoy!" Hermione shrieked. "Don't tell me what to do! YOU JUST WANT RON TO DIE!"

"Surprisingly, I don't," Malfoy said in such an offhand manner that Hermione was stunned into silence. "We need him to help us all get home, as much as I loathe saying it." At the look on her face, he wagged his finger. "Now don't go thinking I like the Weasel, but-" Without further ado, he whipped his wand out, and pointing it at Ron, he muttered 'Wingardium Leviosa' and gave it a sharp flick. Ron, Harry and Trumpkin all fell back onto the bridge. There was a period of calmness, and the three looked stunned. Much like Trumpkin had to him, Malfoy screamed, "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING? MOVE YOUR DAMN ARSES! NOW!"

The three began running again, and by the time the bridge began moving once more, they had collapsed onto the river bank. They all exchanged looks, before Ron promptly fainted.

**|| Break ||**

"Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin," Ron muttered over and over again, in a somewhat catatonic state. He was staring into the crackling embers of the fire Trumpkin had started, and seemed to be in shock over the whole ordeal. "I was gonna die, I was gonna die, I was gonna die."

Hermione shivered and wrapped her arms closer around herself. It was about an hour since the bridge incident, and water droplets still clung to Hermione's eyelashes. She had already finished weeping at Ron's close encounter with death, and was now watching as her friend went mental. Harry was on his back, staring at the trees above them, Trumpkin was off looking for food and Malfoy was sitting a little away from them, still trying to recover. "But you didn't, Ronald. That's the most important thing."

"Why didn't he?" Harry asked. He seemed to have recovered quickly, and it was no wonder; he had had too many close brushes with death to have something like that affect him too much. "I mean, I'm glad that Ron's great, but I thought he was a goner for sure." Ron gave a pitiful groan. "Trumpkin and I were barely holding onto him."

Hermione tried to meet Malfoy's eyes, but he would not look at them. Licking her lips nervously, she said, "Malfoy saved him."

"MALFOY WHAT?" Ron shouted, and it seemed he had come out of his stupor. "You're joking, Hermione."

"I'm not," Hermione replied curtly. "He used _Wingardium Leviosa_ to put you back on the bridge. You owe him a Life Debt."

"This is even worse than dying," Ron said pathetically.

"Really, Weasley, a simple thank you would have sufficed," Malfoy said sharply. For once, Hermione was on his side, and apparently, so too was Harry.

"I know you almost died, mate," Harry said sympathetically, "but you should really thank Malfoy. If it wasn't for him, you'd be up there with Sirius."

Ron looked around at them, face going red. However, at their expectant looks, he mumbled, "Mmswymfoythns."

"What did you just say?" Malfoy asked with a sneer. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"I said I'm sorry!" Ron burst out angrily. "Thanks!"

"For what?"

"For saving my life!"

"That's better." Malfoy looked satisfied. "It'd be even better if you did it on your knees." He smirked and pointed to the ground.

Hermione was glad that Malfoy had saved Ron, but he was being a git about it now. As usual. "Really, Malfoy, I didn't know you swung the other way," Hermione retorted. He looked confused for a moment, before he realised what he had said. He paled, and promptly began retching on the ground. All the water that hadn't left him already was now in a puddle at his feet. Ron, too, looked a little ill.

"_Hermione_," he said, "don't _joke_ about things like that!"

"Sorry," Hermione replied, not that sorry at all. "Oh, there you are, Trumpkin!"

"I couldn't find any animals," Trumpkin said, entering the clearing. "We'll have to make do with these instead." He dumped the contents of his hands onto the ground, a bit away from the fire, and they saw it was a substantial amount of berries, nuts and roots. Hermione sighed; she had been hoping for some meat, as she was starving.

As they ate the food Trumpkin had salvaged, Hermione looked at Trumpkin questioningly. "Will we be walking anymore today?" Hermione asked the Dwarf. "It's still light; I'm sure we could get in another hour or two of hiking."

"I don't think that'd be the best idea, lass," the Dwarf replied. "You all look ready to drop at my feet, and that bridge was right troublesome and tiring. I imagine you'd all want to have a good long sleep about now. The King can wait another day, I hope." At his words, Ron and Malfoy cheered, but Hermione looked disappointed. She had been looking forward to finally meeting this Caspian – and much more importantly, his library. She sighed and nodded, though, acknowledging that she was indeed drained.

"Okay," she replied. "You won't mind if I drop off now, then?" Trumpkin responded in the negative, and with a breath of relief, Hermione lay down, closed her eyes and promptly lost consciousness.

**|| Break ||**

"So this is Aslan's How," Hermione breathed. She had seen her fair share of magical places, but the gigantic mound of dirt in front of her was very near the top. It legitimately _reeked_ of magic – albeit a different type to the magic she was used to, but magic nonetheless. She could feel herself and her magic being energised as she got closer and closer to it. No wonder people revered this place.

"This is the place," Trumpkin confirmed. "Right magical, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful," Hermione said genuinely. She could easily imagine this place being a church or a temple, if they were in the Muggle world.

"You could use some decorating help, though," Malfoy muttered. "It's a pile of _dirt_." He kicked at the ground, seemingly to prove his point.

"So," Harry said, breathing in deeply, "anything we should know about before we meet this Caspian bloke?"

"Show him respect," Trumpkin said after a pause. "Especially you, Draco. If you don't, you might find your head plastered to a wall."

"That's pleasant," Ron remarked.

"The Old Narnians are very defensive about the King," Trumpkin shrugged. "Also…you may not be what he was expecting, so be prepared."

"What was he expecting?" Hermione asked.

"The Kings and Queens of Old."

"Weren't they here a thousand years ago, though?" Ron snorted. "By now, they'd be festering in their graves. Or maybe they'd be dust."

Trumpkin looked offended. "That's no way to speak about our Royals," he growled. "They might not be here anymore, but they helped release us from a very dark time in Narnia's history."

"Are you saying we'll become Royals if we save you?" Ron said excitedly, completely missing the Dwarf's point. Because of this, Trumpkin ignored him.

"Alright, wait here," Trumpkin said. "I'm going to warn them that you're coming." He made his way to the entrance of the mound, and made a loud hooting noise. Judging by the echoing that occurred, they figured there was a tunnel that went into the mound.

Almost immediately, there were shouts and footsteps. A few seconds passed by, and then one of the strangest bunches Hermione had ever seen emerged. There was a tall, handsome man with his hand on his sword, dressed in armour, a large badger, a centaur, a Dwarf that looked similar to Trumpkin but with black hair and then a man that was taller than the Dwarf but not by much. They gave whoops of delight at seeing Trumpkin.

"Trumpkin, my loyal advisor!" the tall man shouted delightedly. "You are back! I had heard tales that you were captured and was worried you would not return, but here you are! Did you find them? Oh, how wonderful it is that you're here!"

Hermione gaped at him. He was smiling broadly, and although she wasn't normally one to gawk, he was very, very good-looking. Harry cleared his throat.

"King Caspian the Tenth?" he called out. Immediately, all heads turned to him, and he went slightly red.

"That is I," the handsome man said, frowning slightly. "Trumpkin, are these people the…help?" Trumpkin nodded gravely, and the frown left. "This is wonderful! Welcome to Narnia, welcome! I take it by your strange garments that you do not come from Narnia?" They would have been offended if he wasn't smiling.

"Obviously," Malfoy sneered, causing Caspian's smile to falter slightly.

"Don't mind him," Hermione said, glaring at the blonde. He shrugged. "It's great to finally meet you. My name is Hermione Granger." She offered him her hand, and to her utter surprise, he placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Ron made a choked noise.

"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Granger," Caspian said, offering her a bright smile. He turned to Harry, Ron and Malfoy, and began enthusiastically shaking their hands. "I'm so glad you all came! Might I enquire as to your names?"

"Uh…Harry Potter."

"Ron Weasley." Ron sounded slightly menacing.

"Draco Malfoy."

"As you know, I am King Caspian the Tenth," Caspian said. "And these are my trusted advisors, Glenstorm, Trufflehunter, Nikabrik and Doctor Cornelius. You have already met Trumpkin." He looked serious. "I have no wish to disillusion you. You are here because I blew a special Horn, Queen Susan's Horn. I trust Trumpkin has already explained my situation?" They nodded. "Well then you will know that I am in desperate need of any help you can give me. Are there any…talents of some sort that you have that may prove useful in our battle?"

Hermione exchanged looks with the other three. "Um…"

"They use magic," Trumpkin told the king loudly. What commotion occurred because of that simple sentence was not expected. Caspian went stock still, Nikabrik looked delighted, Glenstorm the centaur began murmuring something indecipherable and Trufflehunter began shouting in fear. Doctor Cornelius was watching them carefully. "Oh, stop it, you lot! Do you think I would've brought them here if they were like the White Witch? Galloping gargoyles!"

Caspian took a few deep breaths before looking around at his companions. "Silence," he ordered, and it was a wonder how he had changed from the overly-happy man to the kingly commander that he was now. He looked at the four wizards and witch earnestly as the others stopped their noise immediately. "If Trumpkin believes they are not a threat, then I believe him." Trumpkin puffed his chest at the enormous show of trust he was being given by the king. "Is it possible you could perhaps give us a demonstration of your magic?"

"Well…sure," Hermione said, a little lamely. She took out her wand, and saw them shrink back slightly at the sight of it. Feeling a little nervous, she exhaled noisily and then conjured up a small ball of fire that floated in the air. The Narnians all gasped, and Caspian looked at the fire in awe.

"From thin air," he breathed.

"We have to warn you," Ron said quickly, "we can't do much. We only started learning magic this year, and if we do magic more than once a day, we get extremely exhausted."

"Well what use is that?" Nikabrik grumbled. "Pathetic!"

"Hey!" Ron replied angrily. "At least I can do something useful! How would you like it if you were stuck in some dark forest and there was no dry wood anywhere! You'd freeze to death!"

"I'm sure they can do many things," Caspian said, albeit a little hesitantly. "Perhaps you could conjure up a sword?"

The four exchanged looks. "Sorry," Harry said apologetically.

"Create a blizzard?"

"No…"

"Strike someone dead with a word?"

Harry flinched. "Not possible."

"I see." Caspian looked thoughtful, but his eyes were turning calculating as he continued to gaze at the four. Hermione burned red under his, as well as the others', intense gazes. Malfoy was gazing back just as intently, but he looked extremely concentrated on something. Minutes passed with them just staring at each other, when a voice sounded in Hermione's head. She gasped out loud, and they glanced at her. She paid them no attention, however, wondering how exactly Malfoy had managed to project his voice into her mind.

'He's doubting us…'

_What? Malfoy, how the hell are you in my head?_

'Like you don't know. Let me give you a clue, it starts with L and ends with "egilimency".'

_YOU'RE USING LEGILIMENCY ON ME?_

'Oh, bloody hell. That's going to give me a headache for days. Who knew you could be so loud even in your head?'

_WHY ARE YOU HERE, MALFOY?_

Hermione tried her hardest to throw the foreign presence out of her mind, but it was too strong.

_GET OUT!_

'I'm not reading your thoughts, Granger.' Malfoy tried to sound soothing. 'Well, not your deep thoughts. Only the surface thoughts, the ones concentrated on this conversation. Anyway, I thought you'd like to know what Caspian's thinking. Seeing as you're the most logical one in the group, I thought you'd be the one to tell.'

Hermione forced herself to calm down. _What's he thinking?_

'He's thinking that he wants to know if we can fight. He's thinking we're completely useless at the moment.' Malfoy sound gleeful. 'If only he knew. He's thinking that maybe he can teach us to fight. Apparently, the Royal Children were useless when they first came, but they managed to get better. He's wondering why the hell we were the ones that got called, but won't waste an opportunity to have more soldiers.' With that, he painfully wrenched himself out of her mind – she was quite sure it was deliberate – and raised an eyebrow at her. She groaned and touched a hand to her temple.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Ron asked worriedly.

"Oh, I'm fine, Ron," Hermione muttered. "Just a headache. A ferret's annoying me." She glared at Malfoy, and Ron looked confused.

"Okay…"

As predicted, Caspian finally spoke up. "Well, do you know how to fight?" The four shook their heads, and everyone in the vicinity groaned.

"Wonderful, just wonderful…" Trufflehunter muttered.

"Good job, Trumpkin, really," Nikabrik said, not bothering to lower his voice. "We're so proud."

Caspian disregarded them. "I'm sure we could teach you. Would you like to learn?"

"That would be wonderful," Hermione instantly said. Caspian nodded, and signalling that the meeting was over, he turned and began walking back towards Aslan's How, looking deep in thought.

"Why'd you say that?" Ron whined. "I'm so damned tired. Why would we want to learn how to fight?"

"Don't be stupid, Ronald," Hermione hissed lowly. "It could be useful for…when we get back. And plus, they might've kicked us out or something if we had refused."

"I don't think so, Hermione," Harry argued. "I'm sure they still think we can help in some way; Trumpkin said before that the Horn doesn't just summon anybody."

"True," Hermione said. "Let's follow them; it's getting cold." She made all of two steps towards the mound of dirt before she spun on her heel, suddenly look angry. "Merlin, I forgot! MALFOY HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?"

"Do what?" Harry and Ron asked, looking puzzled.

"He forced himself into my head!" Hermione growled. "He used Legilimency!"

"Woah, hold up there, Granger," Malfoy defended himself, holding his hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to tell you what Caspian was thinking-"

"_And you couldn't have just asked me?_"

"Well, that would've made it too obvious, wouldn't it?" Malfoy sneered. "I thought you were smart."

Hermione spluttered. "I- I- But that doesn't give you the right to just _barge_ in uninvited! For all you know, I could've-"

She was interrupted mid-rant when, out of nowhere, a high, loud squeaking invaded her ears. "King Caspian! King Caspian, sir!"

The retreating group that consisted of the King and his advisors spun around with alarming speed at the voice, and Hermione and her friends followed suit. Running up to them was a large squirrel, eyes large and face looking eager. The expression was actually quite comical.

"I found them!" the squirrel exclaimed. "I found them! They're here!"

"Welcome, Pattertwig! We were just heading in…who's here?" Caspian called out.

Pattertwig looked ready to have a fit of ecstasy, so big was his excitement. "Sire, I've found them! The Royal Children!"

And out from the forest behind them all stepped four figures.

**|| Author's Note ||**

Here it is, the long awaited update! :) This was a hard chapter to get out, mainly because I haven't had much time to write and I'm going through a small emotional time right now. I was going to break it up when Hermione fell asleep, but decided I'd like to get Caspian's meeting with them in here, so here it is. I hope you enjoyed it! Especially the cruel little cliffhanger I left you with… ;)

I've almost finished the outline for this story, and I can say that everything will pick up in the next chapter – including the much awaited meetings with the Royals. All up, I'm estimating it'll be around 30 chapters. That's my aim, but it may be a bit shorter or longer.

On a completely different note, I found out that William Moseley and Anna Popplewell, who play Peter and Susan in the movies respectively, auditioned for the parts of Ron and Hermione in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I couldn't even begin to describe the feelings that incited in my fangirling heart.

As always, please read and review! Your comments really do make my day, and any feedback or constructive criticism is welcome. If you could also tag any grammatical or spelling errors you find to the end of your review or in a private message, I'd be grateful. Thank you!

Love,

Coretta


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